There are really two ways to begin this review. I could open with the cleverly silly (yet poignant) line, “They’re having sex to ‘The Kids in America’” from “Discomania” an early 80s drenched, new-wave-o dance track. That would be sure to raise an eyebrow. Or I could quote the first line heard on side-one-track-one, “Rock n Roll Communiqué No. 1”: “This is not entertainment, don’t expect me to entertain you anymore than you could entertain me.” Regardless, each is titillating enough to provide intrigue about Luke Haines’ diatribe called The Oliver Twist Manifesto. As a writer, I can be pulled in two different directions, but by explaining this to you forthright, the dilemma is solved. You have both lyrics to consider, as I explain their significance in the following paragraphs.

It can be argued that Mr. Haines is Britain's most remarkable songwriter since Morrissey/Marr. He certainly has been prolific; his craft has been exhibited wonderfully in The Auteurs, Black Box Recorder and Baader Meinhof. Currently, Haines is Britain’s most accomplished, but he is most definitely her most hated. On this, Haines’ second solo record (his debut, Christie Malry's Double Entry - released only a month prior to The Oliver Twist Manifesto – was a soundtrack), songwriters, politicians, artists, writers, Jesus, and the record industry are found in the crosshairs of Haine's scope.

Haines beckons you into his Castle Strangeland and walks you past various eccentric collectibles, down to the catacombs where his dark tale can be completely revealed. On “Christ” and “England vs. America”, he implies he is a prophet of sorts, born with a vision. The latter song continues with a heavy Book of Revelations vibe where he invokes terrorism (“There’s a man on a bus with a bag, and in the bag there’s a bomb”) and nationalism (“Where’s your national pride?”). The ambient mystery of these tracks (and “What Happens When We Die”) bring a decidedly creepiness into the mix that is literally haunting. “Never Work” is a lovely minimalist, yet lush, call to strike (which coincides with his National Pop Strike). And thus, he is disturbed that the Brits are having sex to American pop songs from the 1980s, his nation is willingly being defiled.

“The Oliver Twist Manifesto”, “The Spook Manifesto”, “Mr. & Mrs. Solanas”, and “Death of Sarah Lucas” (Haines explains why the London artist and challenger of sexual stereotypes had to die) contain Auteur-ized Dr. Dre hip-hop beats (think Eminem on a heroin called Haines) mixed with macabre synth pop melodies that saturate the record. At times, these songs are almost like a satirical take on rap. Haines vocals are more spoken than sang, like rap, but are sexy, sultry, and gloomy, unlike rap. Lyrically, he is taking on heavy topics; this is not bloody entertainment.

Luke Haines has something specific in mind, and it is a reevaluation of culture, and dare I say, a revolution. He is issuing a warning and an admonition to you, the discerning music listener, things have to change for Not-So-Merry Old England’s arts, business, and political communities. He begs for controversy by killing Sarah Lucas in song, and loosely comparing and contrasting his life to Jesus Christ’s. This is a safe statement: Haines is over-the-top. Hell, he refers to himself (in his own press releases) as an “invincible” and “irrepressible genius.” In a way, one cannot dispute it. His songs are simply deft, and his lyrics are extremely smart. He is also an enigma. The Oliver Twist Manifesto is a splendid and progressive work that reflects all that comprises Mr. Luke Haines – Defender of Relevance and Opponent of Mediocrity. In other words, Haines walks the talk.

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